Lucus was the type of kid that everyone hated.
Good looks, but no talent. Book smart, no judgment. Suits and ties were his choice attire, or anything that complimented his millionaire persona. His brown hair was always neat and combed, his face smooth as a baby's bottom , and he couldn't be caught dead with a stain on his clothes. He tried so hard to come off as perfect, but his flaws? They would inevitably be the death of him.
He sat on the porch, sun beaming down on his face, writing an assignment that was long overdue. "The comprehension of humanity. Are we good, or are evil? Life is an award, and death is a punishment," he wrote about the theory of mankind. "We are unworthy of existence, for we leave a path of destruction in our wake."
This was an uncited quote he pulled from an unknown philosopher. One that he couldn't recall where he had originally seen, but that had burned itself in his mind.
Lucus was a first-year psychology major; a field of study recommended by his counselor who considered him to be a very intelligent student overflowing with charisma. Her exact words were something like, "You would do wonders in that field!".
Lucas, however, was in his own mind during her enthusiastic rambling, and only tuned in when potential income was mentioned. Now, he resided in a new town with his own apartment and a mountain of paperwork with a hard deadline only eight hours away.
He worked vigorously with his phone off to the side buzzing with message after message. Finally, he reluctantly put his pen down and picked up the phone; a decision he would come to regret.
"Hey, Lucas."
"?"
"Going to Mike's party tonight?"
"Lmao, no."
"Dude why not?"
"Because I don't wanna be seen within a five-mile radius of that dude. Plus I got a shit ton to do, probably gonna spend the weekend playing catch up."
"Dude, it's gonna be lit! I heard they were planning this sick prank on Jack." Lucas paused for a second, raised an eyebrow, then continued to text.
"Go on?"
"You know gabby? That one hot bitch who's dating the loser himself?"
"Yeah?"
"She's been in koots with Mike, to play this huge prank on him at the party. Mike said it was to teach him a lesson."
"Okay, interested."
"So you're going?"
"We'll see..."
****
Jack's dark and edgy attire perfectly reflected his mindset. He was seemingly covered in tattoos, devoid only from the neck up. It was no secret that he struggled with demons of his own, but not everyone knew just how intense they were. He witnessed the death of his mother at the age of 4, and could still recall her violent screams as she was butchered by his father..
"You did this to yourself! This what happens to cheating whores," his father's voice echo through his mind. Her silenced wail as the final slash to the throat was delt replayed in Jack's head like a DVD on loop accompanied by the horrific image he caught from the closet.
He was placed in foster care with new parents who only wanted the money while his father received life in prison. By age sixteen, his criminal record had more digits than the president's paycheck.
Not everyone knew the depth of Jack's dark history, and those who did thought his life was over before it started. It all flipped, however, when he made friends with the very law he had always rebelled against.
Most of his legal violations were considered minor offenses, but when convicted for his third felony, the judge concluded that his problem may be based less in anarchy and more in mental trauma. While the sentence was for some time behind bars, he was given a way out through therapy. With the help of his parole officer, he managed to find a "decent" job and a "decent" apartment (decent being a relative term).
It may not have been perfect, but he appreciated the change in scenery. Still, what really brightened things up was meeting the love of his life.
Her name was Gabriella, Gabby for short. Big breasts, plump lips, and wide waist. Supermodel attractive for sure! Sandy blond hair draped to her back, and sleeve tattoos stretched from her shoulders to just past her wrists bleeding over the tops of her hands. The type of woman Jack would gladly die for.
The two were remarkably inseparable despite only having been together for three weeks. They were always hand in hand whether walking in the park or stargazing on the hood of his car, and he bought her anything she wanted.
He spared no expense in providing every luxury for his beloved, even when there was nothing left to spend. Her wish was his command with no exception.
Jack didn't feel like he had any friends, but the few who looked out for him warned of her abuse. Not abuse of the body or mind, but of his wallet. But the more he gave her, the more she promised and teased. And the more she drew him in, the more he pushed anyone with concern away.
Finally, "Don't come cryi'n to us when she leaves you for dead," were their exact words, repeated more intensely with every relationship he ended for her sake.
But that, therapy and all, was the past. Nearly a year after starting therapy, Jack lay in his filthy room, staring at the ceiling from his bed in silent contemplation.
A collage of band posters blanketed every wall, and the shelf next to his bed was heavily populated with Fungo Pop Dolls. His guitar leaned against the bed, and the silence was interrupted by vibrations from the phone on his chest. After a delayed groan, he lazily slid the phone to his ear.
"S'up?"
"Hey , what'cha got planned right now?"
"G-huh- nothi'n much, just layin down, being tired as fuck."
"So I got this perfect date planned for us! It's really sick, you're gonna love it."
"S'it somewhere expensive?"
"Nah. it's a party actually."
"Sick."
"Right?!"
"What's the cover?"
"Free of charge with beer," she giggled.
"S'it big?"
"We've seen bigger. Problem???"
"Not skilled at socializing, not sure if you remember."
"C'mon it will be fun, and you need to get out of that damn shell of yours."
"I-.."
"It'll be good for you. Chance to make new friends after those dicks let you down."
"Not even sure if I work that day or not."
"So call out!"
"I-"
"For me?" Silence.
"Please?" Again, silence.
"Look, Jack, I am going with or without you. Pick me up with a six-pack this weekend, or someone else will." Her anger resonated in the beep of the phone. Jack rolled over with in defeated with a sigh, his anxiety on overdrive and loneliness reaching a new level.
The next day at work was probably the most stressful since he began therapy. Foot traffic was consistent and unrelenting. It was Jack's first official day as manager at "Danny's Icecream". It was a local shop run by his parole officer's brother.
Although it was a small business, it seemed like everyone in town stopped in at least once a week. Dan was doing Jack a big favor to" give him a chance," and he made it to manager within just a few months.
Pink, brown, and white stripes wrapped around the walls of the small dining area, large enough only to fit a few dining sets with the same color theme. K-Pop blast overhead forcing customers to shout their orders over the register while their friends and family browsed the various images of anime and desserts across the wall. Jack was taking an order when Lucas walked, accompanied by a woman.
"Hey jack?" one of his coworkers shouted, smacking an icecream dispenser. "Could you come here for a sec? The machine's acti'n funny."
"Jeez," Jack mumbled, "I had no idea I was working at mcdonalds." Jack skimmed the room on his way over. "Lesli," he called with authority. She jumped, squealed as she spilled lemonade on herself. With a roll of his eyes, Jack commanded, "grab a napkin, and cover me, will ya?"
"Y-yes sir," she squeaked, fumbling for a napkin on her way to the register. Lucases date leaned on the counter smiling at Lesli as he towered over them condescendingly. "Um-Hi! W-welcome to Danny's." Lesli began. There was an awkward pause. "Can I get you anything?"
"Can you," Lucas asked with a sigh.
"I mean," she smiled nervously, "What can I get you?" Lucas gestured toward his date, insisting her order be taken first. Lesli confirmed the order, and his date picked the closest seat, listening in while waiting.
"I'd like to see your manager, please."
"Umm- he seems to be bus-"
"Let me speak to the manager, please," he ruthlessly interrupted with a more demanding tone.
"One moment sir," she backed away fearfully. "Jack," she called. Jack responded with an agitated sigh.
"Five minutes, Lesli," he growled as he approached the counter.
"Sorry, sir," she returned. "He was pretty persistent about seeing a manager."
"Aren't they always," he rolled his eyes.
"Umh-"
"Just get back to whatever you were doing."
"Right," she marched off clumsily.
"May I help you," Jack groaned as he shuffled some bills into their slots.
"So, how does it feel?" Lucas began, "To be working at a dump like this?"
"It's great, actually. So- we have an assortment of things on the menu from banana swirl to choc-chip cream, and we're also having a special on our ice cream pies."
"Yeah. I'll take a pie. I"m surprised they even hired you- looking like that."
"Great, $4.99," Jack declared enthusiastically, followed by a mumble. "And you can fuck off."
"Do you still have dreams about your dead mother?" Jack was suddenly paralyzed, flashing back to the sounds of his mother's desperate gasps and screams.
"Hey, dick head," Lucas snapped once or twice.
"Cash or credit," Jack snapped jumped back to the present.
"Credit. God!"
"Sorry."
"Your dad killed her, right?"
"Y-yeah-," Jack nodded as he swiped Lucas' card.
"Why didn't he kill you?" Jack stared in his eyes with silent intensity. "I'm sure you've been asked before," Lucas laughed. The flashbacks came back, more intense this time. He saw his mother's face along with the vivid screams.
"Jack? Jack? Hello? Jack," snapped Lucas.
"Wha?"
"Do I get a receipt, or what?" There was a moment of hesitation before Jack turned around and shouted.
"Stacy," he waved.
"Yeah," a girl peaked out from the bathrooms with a mop.
"You're gonna need to fill in for me, I-I gotta take a smoke." Jack handed Lucas his receipt.
~to be continued~
